


Forty Percent

by WellSchitt



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Business Talk, Class Differences, Financial Issues, Fluff, M/M, Spreadsheets, Wedding Planning, this fandom is turning me into a ball of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 17:43:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20661185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WellSchitt/pseuds/WellSchitt
Summary: For the first time ever, David pays rapt attention to the spreadsheet Patrick insists on showing him. There’s a list of things that will be covered under the joint account, like rent and groceries and vehicle upkeep, and then they’ll each keep a separate account for individual expenses. Patrick repeats the fact that clothing and toiletries will be considered individual expenses multiple times, but David is still too starry-eyed about the casual way he said ‘our household expenses’ to even consider arguing.Then David notices something odd, off in its own section below their estimated rent and utilities.





	Forty Percent

Getting engaged does weird things to David’s sense of romance.

That first night, laying awake in his awful single bed unable to sleep over the sound of his mother’s hysterics, he imagines arguing over what color they’ll paint the walls of their bedroom. Maybe he’ll let Patrick hang up his cheap black and white architectural prints (on tasteful dove gray walls) in exchange for free reign over the decor in the living room. Maybe Patrick will want to display some kind of horrid sports memorabilia. The details aren’t important, yet—the weird part is that he _wants_ to have to compromise.

For the first time in his life, he wants to not get everything he wants.

Then the next week, all of a sudden, he can’t stop thinking about a joint cell phone plan. He looks up rates for data packages.

A few days later, he realizes that Jesus, maybe Patrick will_ garden_. Maybe he’ll wake up far too early every other Saturday, throw on grungy shorts and a white tshirt, and annoy the shit out of David by mowing and weed eating before 9 a.m. Fuck, just thinking about Patrick pushing a lawnmower in his dumb baseball hat is enough to make him swoon. He’s practically fantasizing about it, except, like, without any literal onanism.

Caught up in the moment, David calls his doctor’s office (which he’s visited exactly twice in the years he’s lived in Schitt’s Creek) and makes Patrick his emergency contact.

The nurse doesn’t ask why he needs to change it. David tells her anyway.

—

Patrick thinks they should apply for a joint bank account sooner rather than later; he says it will be more practical for wedding deposits and then, eventually, it can be used for their household expenses.

Listening to him, David hides grin after grin. For possibly the first time ever, he pays rapt attention to the spreadsheet Patrick insists on showing him. There’s a list of things that will be covered under the joint account, like rent and groceries and vehicle upkeep, and then they’ll each keep a separate account for individual expenses. Patrick repeats the fact that clothing and toiletries will be considered individual expenses multiple times, but David is still too starry-eyed about the casual way he said ‘our household expenses’ to even consider arguing.

Then David notices something odd, off in its own section below their estimated rent and utilities.

He frowns and tilts his head. “Why does the column for contributing to household expenses say 50%, but that line at the bottom says 40%?”

Patrick looks almost pathetically gratified that he’s tracking—ugh, David really should pay more attention to his quarterly briefings. “The column lists our shares of household expenses, which we’ll take right out of our income from the store. Then 40% of the remainder goes to my account for personal expenses.”

“But why 40%?”

“That’s... that’s my share of the store’s profits?” Patrick gives him a look, like he can’t tell if David’s playing dumb or not.

Except this time David thinks maybe Patrick is the one playing dumb. “Yes, thank you, I get that... but why isn’t it 50%?”

Patrick sits back in the chair with an odd little smile. “David. I’m an investor in Rose Apothecary, and your business manager. You’re the owner and principal investor. We don’t split the profits 50/50.”

It takes a moment to translate. “Wait, you’ve been paying me more than you?!”

“No, David, you—_the owner_—have been paying me—_your manager_—a perfectly reasonable salary. We signed a contract when I first came on board, remember?”

“Yes, but that was years ago! That was before.”

“Before...”

Before early morning road trips to quaint farms in the country, when Patrick got up early to pick up coffee and muffins for them both. Before boring afternoons in an empty store, Patrick coming up with a plan to increase foot traffic while David wasted time pacing and fretting about their falling revenue. Before evenings together refinishing shelving, Patrick’s sleeves rolled up and David basically just keeping him company. Before late nights watching Patrick pour over their books at his desk, his desk lamp the only light in the room because he wanted David to get some sleep.

The stupid thing that comes out of his mouth, however, is: “Before we were dating!”

“And what, I should have given myself a raise for dating you?”

Most residents of Schitt’s Creek would answer that question with a resounding ‘yes,’ because David is a lot. “You do just as much as I do. You work just as hard.”

“I do. But David, this was...” Patrick waves his hand around the store. “This was all you, your idea and initiative. You’re the creative genius behind all of this, I’m just the numbers guy. Remember?”

“You’re more than that,” David snaps, not pacified in the least by being called a creative genius. Patrick looks genuinely taken aback, the amusement melting from his face for the first time.

He’s not sure why he’s so angry about this. Maybe because Patrick thought he knew all along; maybe because it’s David’s own incompetence that kept him from rectifying it sooner.

Or maybe because Patrick is giving him that fondly condescending look that kind of makes David want to throw him out a window. “Look, I’m not saying no to a raise at some point, but can we revisit this some other time? Right now I really need to talk you through the wedding budget, because even just browsing, you have this uncanny ability to pick out the most expensive option available, from literally every vendor. I don’t know how you do it, it’s like a circus trick.”

“That’s not true.”

Patrick holds up a hand to enumerate. “Photographer, baker, caterer, and florist so far. If my cousin wasn’t a minister I suspect you’d be asking Oprah whether her appearance fee covers weddings.”

The thought had occurred.

Grudgingly, David waves his hand, gesturing for him to continue.

—

David’s out getting lunch that afternoon when it hits him: _he’s the owner_.

He pulls out his phone and looks up the number for a cheap lawyer in Elmdale.

—

“David,” Patrick says—whispers, really—a week later, staring at the paperwork in front of him.

“I’ll just forge your signature if you won’t sign.”

“You don’t know how to forge signatures.”

“Alexis does.”

Shaking his head, Patrick blinks up at him, eyes almost as tender as they were when he was down on one knee. Huffing a laugh, he leans in to add his name to the deed, then the new incorporation paperwork, certifying him as the co-owner of Rose Apothecary.

**Author's Note:**

> More random finance-related musings from me. I suspect in the show that David is a little more attuned to the minutiae of the store's finances.
> 
> My wife and I got married when I was just out of college, and these kinds of details thrilled me while we were engaged :P


End file.
